


a line to yourself or a place on the shelf

by batyatoon



Category: Sefer Yehudit | Book of Judith, מדרש | Midrash, תנ"ך | Tanakh
Genre: Biblical Reinterpretation, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Community: purimgifts, Gen, Women Comparing Notes, apocrypha, out of context
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-15 23:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18082895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batyatoon/pseuds/batyatoon
Summary: A handful of women who turned the tables on men in their day, most of whom never met in life, meet somewhere else and talk over their differences.(I wanted Ester in this conversation, but she wasn't available; when last seen she was at another table, talking with Avigayil and Izevel.  Rachav was working the bar, and kindly allowed me to sit and take notes for a little while.)





	a line to yourself or a place on the shelf

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tassledown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/gifts).



> The title of this work is from Talis Kimberley's song "[Archetype Café](https://genius.com/Talis-kimberley-archetype-cafe-lyrics)" (audio available [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QTcrhu-mLWM)), and to some small extent so is the concept.

_The theory goes: in a sufficiently infinite universe -- for there are many different sizes of infinity, as the mathematicians know -- in a universe, as they say, of_ sufficient _infiniteness, every being who has ever lived will somehow, somewhere, eventually meet every other._

_The 'somewhere' is an approximation at best of the relevant concept, most likely impossible to describe with even the remotest accuracy. We may do well to picture it, with full awareness that the picture is a parable rather than any kind of genuine representation, as some sort of public meeting place; someplace entirely out of context._

_A café, perhaps._

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Dlila stirred a generous dollop of date-honey into her hot milk, and eyed her seatmates with a cocked eyebrow. "I'm honestly not sure what else you think I could have done. Honey?"

Dvora shook her head, at either the offer or the sentiment. "Do you really expect me to sympathize?"

"You could make the effort,” she said dryly, without any real force behind it. “If I’d led an army to fight him, would you have liked that better, maybe? I know he was a hero to you, but to us he was a menace. Your god made him invulnerable and set him at us. I had to do what I could. For _my_ people, and _my_ god. Surely you can understand that."

"I do," Yehudit put in, reaching across Ya'el for the honey jar.

Dvora gave Yehudit a protesting look. “Really?”

“ _Yes_ , really," said Yehudit with some asperity, and took a piece of bread from the shallow basket in the middle of the table. "I might have done the same thing in her place. I practically _did_ do the same thing.”

“You didn’t take money to do it,” Dvora said darkly.

Yehudit shrugged, drizzling honey over her bread. “Nobody was offering.”

Dvora frowned fiercely at that; Ya’el glanced at her and shook her head, and passed her the bread-basket in turn. Dlila sipped her drink, and gave a crooked smile.

“Though I found flattering the ass worked a lot faster than trying to guilt him,” Yehudit continued, her tone cool and thoughtful. “And I don’t see why you didn’t just kill him, once you had him helpless. Would have been safer that way, in the long run.”

Dlila made a face. “Believe me, the thought did cross my mind. Thanks to the story of you and your tent-peg,” she added to Ya'el, who looked both put out and oddly pleased.  “But no, the lords wanted their way with him, and once I did my part they didn’t much care what I thought.”

“Men,” sighed Ya'el in weary disgust.  A general murmur of agreement went up, and not even Dvora seemed inclined to argue.


End file.
